From a loser to an immortal sage

Chapter 508 A New Challenge Arrives

The tears of the Moon Fairy are still clinging to my neck and shoulder, the moist scent of jasmine making my nose sting.

The cheers for "Immortal Venerable" from the audience were like the rising tide, one wave higher than the next, making my eardrums vibrate.

I looked at the few outer disciples in the crowd who had once called me "useless." At this moment, their faces were flushed and they were shouting the loudest, as if they wanted to crush all the past harshness and mold it back into worship.

"So... even a good-for-nothing can become an immortal." The whisper from the corner was like a fine needle, gently pricking away the tears welling up in my eyes.

I remember squatting at the door of the servants' quarters when I first transmigrated, being poked in the back by a broom branch and being called a "useless piece of trash with no spiritual roots"; I remember practicing swordsmanship by the cold pool until my fingers bled, and being spat on by a passing senior sister as a "waste of resources"; I remember when Wen Chen first handed me the Heart-Protecting Jade, I held back my hand and dared not take it, afraid of being tainted by his immortal energy.

The jade pendant felt a cool warmth on my chest, like the temperature when he used to hold my hand and draw sword manuals.

As I was stroking the jade pendant with my head down, the boiling sound suddenly seemed to be paused.

"I heard you defeated Immortal Venerable Lingyun, that's truly impressive."

The sound was like a piece of cold jade thrown into boiling water, carrying a hint of nonchalant coolness.

I looked up and saw the crowd parting to the sides, revealing a figure in black armor.

His shoulder armor was carved with dark patterns that gleamed with a bluish light in the sunlight, and a sword hung at his waist, its tassel a blood-red stain.

What made my heart skip a beat was his eyes—those pupils were like water from a thousand-year-old cold pool, clearly looking at me, yet it was as if he were looking through me into a more distant place.

"Night Shadow Immortal Venerable!" someone exclaimed softly.

A gasp rippled through the audience, and several elderly elders stumbled back, their robes crumpled into a tangled mess.

I remember the sect's records mentioning that this immortal venerable always kept to himself and the last time he appeared in public was three hundred years ago when he suppressed the chaos of the Demon Abyss, after which he disappeared without a trace.

It is said that he cultivates the most ferocious path of killing, yet he always appears during times of calamity in the human world, like a ball of fire wrapped in ice.

He walked to the edge of the arena, his black boots grinding over the bloodstains I had just spilled. "I'm very interested in you," he said, his voice like a sword blade scraping against stone. "I want to see if this newly risen Immortal Venerable of the Celestial Realm can withstand my Killing Sword."

I could feel a thin layer of sweat seeping from my back.

The Killing Sword technique uses internal energy to control the sword, and its momentum is like a raging torrent, which is extremely taxing on the mind.

But when I met the mocking smile in his eyes, I suddenly remembered what Wen Chen had said: "Ayao, true strength is never defined by the past."

“I agreed.” I heard my own voice, more steady than I had imagined.

Xuanfeng Immortal Venerable unfurled his whisk with a "whoosh," and a few strands of his white beard were lifted by the wind: "Since it is a challenge, then let's follow the rules."

Three days later, on the battlefield of honor. "When he looked at Immortal Venerable Nightshade, there was a hint of solemnity in his eyes—it seemed that even this referee, who had been fair for thousands of years, understood the weight of this battle."

Fairy Mingyue gripped my wrist, her nails almost digging into my flesh: "Ayao, Night Shadow Immortal's killing path..." Her voice trembled, but she didn't finish her sentence.

I took her hand in return and felt the cold sweat on her palm.

The girl who always gave me sweet cakes and mended my tattered Taoist robe still had tear stains at the corners of her eyes, but she forced a smile: "I believe you."

Elder Wu's broken pen tapped on the table with a "tap-tap" sound. He pushed the jade thumb ring that had slipped off and said solemnly, "This old minister will go and rewrite the challenge letter immediately, according to the standards of an Immortal Venerable." When he said the words "Immortal Venerable," his Adam's apple bobbed, as if he was swallowing something—perhaps the sigh he let out when he personally wrote "no spiritual root" on my spiritual root test form back then?

The crowd began to disperse, and snippets of conversation drifted into my ears: "The Killing Sword hasn't appeared in the world for three hundred years... Immortal Venerable Xiao has just established his authority and is already going to fight a veteran powerhouse... Why hasn't Immortal Venerable Wen arrived yet?" The last sentence made my heart skip a beat, and when I looked up, I saw that familiar figure in white in the clouds.

He stood on a sycamore tree beside the arena, the sunlight filtering through the branches falling on his hair like scattered silver.

I looked at him, and he looked at me, a very faint smile slowly curving up at the corners of his lips.

The heart-protecting jade suddenly became hot, so hot that it hurt my chest—that was a sign that he was sending a message using his divine sense.

"Ah Yao." His voice rang in her mind, carrying the clear fragrance of plum blossoms. "I prepared a Marrow Cleansing Pill in the alchemy room. You won against Ling Yun's sword manual, but you haven't finished practicing it yet."

Three days later… He paused, the wind whipping up his sleeve to reveal a section of his wrist bone, “I’ll practice with you until dawn.”

Fairy Mingyue tugged at my sleeve: "It's time to go back to Cloud Shadow Peak. Your shoulder injury hasn't been treated yet." Only then did I realize that my left shoulder was burning with pain, probably from being grazed by the sword energy when I received Ling Yun's Mountain-Splitting Sword strike.

But what warmed my heart even more than the pain was the realization that being cherished and cared for made even a wound feel like it was coated in honey.

Night Shadow Immortal's black armor had disappeared at the end of the crowd, leaving only the fallen flowers crushed by his footsteps.

I touched the jade pendant; it was so hot it felt like it was burning through my clothes.

Three days later, on the battlefield of honor, the Killing Path Sword and the Cloud Shadow Technique will clash...

I watched Wen Chen leap down from the tree, his clothes sweeping across the fallen red petals on the ground, and he reached out his hand to me.

The wind ruffled his hair, and I suddenly remembered what he said when I first started learning swordsmanship: "A-Yao, the path to immortality is long and arduous, I'll accompany you."

Now, it's my turn to accompany him to see even more dangerous mountains and more turbulent waves.

On the third day, before the morning mist had completely dissipated, I stood on the training ground of the battlefield of honor, the cloud patterns on the soles of my shoes perfectly matching the demon-suppressing engravings on the bluestone slab.

Wen Chen brushed the sword tassel he had tied for me across the back of my hand. He had re-woven it with spirit silk last night and secretly embroidered a tiny plum blossom on it. He always called it the "soul-stabilizing flower," saying that I used to tug at the sword tassel when I was nervous while practicing swordsmanship, and this flower would calm my mind.

"Immortal Xiao, please enter the War Preparation Pavilion." Immortal Xuanfeng gently tapped the vermilion gate on the east side with the tip of his whisk, and I then realized that my palms were already sweating.

Looking back down at the stage, Fairy Mingyue was standing in the front row, holding a celadon jar in her arms—it was ginseng soup she had brewed overnight, saying, "Drink a couple of sips before the fight starts, and your blood will heat up faster." Elder Wu was leaning on a table, tiptoeing, on which was piled the battle report of Immortal Venerable Yeying suppressing the Demon Abyss three hundred years ago, the edges of which were crumpled from being turned over so many times. Wen Chen stood at the highest point of the viewing area, his white robes billowing in the mountain wind, his gaze like a thread, firmly tied to the back of my neck.

The door to the Preparatory Pavilion creaked open, and a young fairy boy in a blue robe handed me my sword.

The scabbard still bore the marks of Wen Chen's fingers—last night, when he held my hand during practice, his knuckles almost embedded themselves into my bones as he corrected my sword angle. "The energy of the Killing Path Sword is spiral-shaped," he breathed, brushing past my ear, "You have to use the gentle force of the Cloud Shadow Technique to deflect it first, and then on the third turn..." Before he could finish, the tip of my sword pierced his shoulder, but he laughed out loud, "Yes, that's it. A-Yao's sword is three times faster than before."

"when--"

The morning bell shattered the mist, and the voice of the Mysterious Wind Immortal Venerable, enveloped in spiritual energy, spread out: "The Path of Slaughter versus the Shadow of Clouds, three moves will decide the outcome."

Night Shadow Immortal Venerable, Xiao Immortal Venerable, please!

The fog on the other side of the arena suddenly surged and boiled, and when the black armor broke through the fog, even the sunlight seemed to dim.

Night Shadow Immortal's sword was not drawn, but I could feel the killing intent—like countless fine needles piercing from all directions, making my eyelids tremble.

He raised his hand and pointed at me, drops of blood from his sword tassel falling onto the stone surface with a hiss: "My first sword strike is called 'Snow Covering.'"

Before the words were even finished, the world suddenly turned bitterly cold.

I saw my breath condense into white mist, and the figure of Night Shadow Immortal Venerable split into seven parts within the mist—this was the "illusion" of the Killing Path Sword, using killing intent to interfere with divine consciousness.

Wen Chen said last night, "Don't chase the shadow, look at his sword." I stared at the sword at his waist, and sure enough, the tassel of the sword of the leftmost phantom was moving—it was real!

I spun around and swung my sword. Just as I was about to begin the seventh move of the Cloud Shadow Technique, "Piercing Clouds," my wrist suddenly felt heavy.

That killing intent, wrapped in ice shards, drilled into my meridians along the sword blade!

I gritted my teeth and took a deep breath, the protective jade on my chest burning hot—it was Wen Chen transmitting spiritual energy to me. "A Yao, use the heat from the Marrow Cleansing Pill to cleanse!" His voice exploded in my mind, and I bit my tongue hard, a sweet and metallic taste mixed with the fragrance of the pill surged up, and ice shards shattered into star-like pieces with a "crack".

"What a brilliant use of an injury to break the kill." The second figure of Night Shadow Immortal Venerable descended from above, this time with his sword drawn.

The black blade reflected on my face; I saw the bloodshot in my own eyes, and the dark fire flickering in his pupils. "The second strike, 'City Burning'."

The sword wind, carrying a wave of heat, rushed towards me, and I was only then surprised to realize that the cold I felt earlier was just a prelude—the power of the Killing Sword lies in the clash of ice and fire, which disturbs the mind and spirit.

I recalled the trajectory Wen Chen had drawn on the sand table last night: "His swordplay is like a snake, first retracting and then extending." So I didn't take it head-on, but instead rolled to the side, aiming the tip of my sword at his lower body.

But the sword wind followed me around a corner, and as the heat wave brushed past my ear, I heard the sound of fabric tearing—the wound on my left shoulder had reopened.

"Ah Yao!" Fairy Mingyue's scream, mixed with Elder Wu's gasp, exploded in his ears.

I covered my wound and looked up. The third figure of Night Shadow Immortal Venerable was already standing in the center of the arena. This time, his sword was wrapped in black mist, and even the sword tassel had condensed into blood crystals.

His eyes finally warmed, burning with almost ecstatic joy: "The third sword, 'Yellow Springs'—for three hundred years, finally someone has forced me to use this move."

The black mist spread out like a living thing. I heard gasps from below the stage, saw Xuanfeng Immortal Venerable's whisk trembling, and saw Wen Chen's white robes stained gray by the black mist.

There were cries and the smell of blood and rust in that black mist, and the scene I feared most—the broom in the servants' quarters, the cold laughter by the cold pool, and Elder Wu shaking his head during the spiritual root test.

I staggered backward, the tip of my sword piercing the stone slab, my knuckles turning white.

"Ayao, look at me."

Wen Chen's voice pierced through the black mist, like a red-hot knife cleaving through the dark clouds.

I looked up at him, and he was standing at the edge of the black mist, holding a ball of white light in his palm—the spiritual projection of the Heart-Protecting Jade.

His lips moved slowly, but I understood: "You're not a good-for-nothing, you are me, Xiao Yao."

The black mist suddenly stopped, and the protective jade on my chest exploded with a warm current.

The malice of the past crumbled like pieces of paper in the wind. I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth and gripped my sword tightly.

Night Shadow Immortal's third sword was already upon me, the black mist on the blade condensing into a skull, its mouth agape as it tried to swallow me.

"Cloud Shadow Technique, Tenth Form, Break!"

My sword clashed with his sword. This time there was no ice, no fire, only two unquenchable lights.

From within the black mist, I heard the Night Shadow Immortal chuckle: "Interesting..."

And his sword, at the instant of contact, cracked open with an extremely fine fissure.